


Episode 1: The New Neighbours.

by c000kiesandcream



Series: The One with the Sitcom AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, New York, POV Audience, POV Third Person, Sitcom, Sitcom AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c000kiesandcream/pseuds/c000kiesandcream
Summary: Yuuri is woken from his nap by the neighbours moving into the apartment opposite, and he can't believe who they happen to be.





	

The late afternoon sunlight shone through the huge bay window into the open plan apartment, reflecting off the flat screen TV mounted on the dove grey walls. Around the TV were posters featuring James Dean, Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman - memories of a romantic Hollywood. Beneath these stood a long storage cabinet crammed with all kinds of books; textbooks from economics classes with barely a crack on the spine; anthologies from old poets, long since dead, with a couple of dents that ran along the pages, marking key quotations; trashy teen novels amongst a few pulp fiction novellas salvaged from Goodwill. On either side of this display were two doors, the first had a poster of a Japanese figure skater on the door, mid salchow. The other had the letters P. C. sprayed onto the woodwork. Both doors had large, tarnished-gold doorknobs that were always cold to touch, regardless of the time of year.

The space in front of the TV was occupied by a large oak coffee table, again salvaged from a Goodwill. On it was a half-full coffee cup that was not on the coaster that had been carefully laid next to it, the TV remotes, and a pile of more economics textbooks. A couple of large armchairs that had the memory of a damask pattern on the body stood on opposite ends of the room. The chipped wood that made the arms and legs matched the coffee table, and also the legs of the main attraction of the room: the couch. The couch could have almost been a bed, and was often used as such by the boys who lived in the apartment. As it stood now, one of the residents, Yuuri Katsuki, was sound asleep there. The dove grey cushions were feather down, and made up the entirety of the back and base of the sofa. On top of this, the boys had piled a number of homemade quilts and cushions, the ultimate comfort on homesick nights.

Yuuri was currently laying on his stomach, with his head facing the TV that was, at a low volume, selling a number of wonderful cleaning products. His arm stretched out into the room, under his body, and his too long legs were curled up under him. While it was not a comfortable position, the boy snored lightly as he slept, the blue-rimmed glasses that had hung precariously between his fingers had dropped onto the plush rug that protected the hardwood floors from this fantastic collection of furniture.

Suddenly, there was an almighty crash that came from outside the apartment, followed by a string of expletives, shouted with a slight accent.  
Yuuri stirred on the sofa, rubbing his eyes, confused after being woken from his nap.

‘Phichit? Is that you?’ He slid up into a sitting position, still sinking into the soft cushions. He looked over the back of the sofa and at the yellow door that led out to the hallway. The outline of the door was fuzzy, and he could barely make out the letterbox that had no reason for being there. He pawed at his head for his glasses, and sighed when he felt their absence, changing his hand's motion to shake out his hair. It still felt damp from his shower, so he can’t have slept for that long.

He turned his body to the coffee table, where he could just about outline the shape of the remote and his coffee cup. He sighed again, pressing the bridge of his nose whilst suppressing the urge to yawn again. Napping always made him feel groggy. He reached out and tentatively felt the sides of the cup. It was luke-warm, so he drank what was left in one gulp with a grimace, disappointed that he didn't instantly feeling the effects of the caffeine. He could just make out the voice of the enthusiastic woman selling the mop on the TV when another crash made him jump. This was followed by a different voice, one with a much softer cadence, still sounding slightly foreign. Yuuri imagined a young couple, bickering over their new apartment. The Johnson place opposite theirs had been on the market for precisely one week, but being located on the Upper East Side in this fairly famous building, it was snatched up instantly.

He swung his legs off the sofa, and his toes came in contact with something cool and metallic, as well as the plush rug. He snatched his glasses up, and rubbed them clean with his shirt, before sliding them onto his face. He stretched up until he was standing, almost touching the beams that ran along the ceiling, arcing his arms in a semi-circle around himself.

Slowly, he lumbered towards the door, dragging his feet. It was only 2:30 in the afternoon. Yuuri had spent last night in the newspaper offices at his university, so he had taken advantage of the unusually empty apartment and tried to catch up on the lost sleep. He had a lecture in a couple of hours, so it was probably for the best that this couple had woken him up. Still, while moving is stressful, he did not feel at all ready to forgive being woken up.

Before he realised where his feet had led him, he had swung open the door, rubbing the back of his neck, and looking out with bleary eyes at the scene in front of him. The hallway was stacked high with boxes. A trail of them led past the purple door that was directly opposite his own, and led into the apartment. He could still hear a trail of foreign expletives being yelled from behind a mountain of boxes inside the apartment, but he couldn’t make out any bodies. He glanced down either side of the corridor, before turning back into his apartment.

‘Wait!’ Yuuri heard the yell before he could shut the door.

‘Hello?’ He called out into the empty space. His voice bounced off the boxes that were stacked directly in front of him. It was from behind these boxes that a face popped up, resting a structured chin on a pair of slender arms, crossed pensively. The slender face was framed by a few stray silver hairs, contrasting the sharpness of the cheekbones and the jawline. Yuuri jumped, blushing a little at his reaction.

‘Sorry neighbour! Didn’t mean to startle you. Did we wake you also?’ They tilted their head to one side like a puppy, eyes shining wide, taking in the man in front of them. Yuuri was wearing his university sweatpants and a matching baseball jersey. He had no shoes on, and his glasses slid down his nose as he looked down slightly to shake his head.  
Yuuri looked back up, hoping his blush had died down, sliding his glasses back into a more comfortable position on his face involuntarily. This made the person behind the boxes blink, briefly masking the teal pools that reflected the fluorescent lights in the hallway.

‘I needed to wake up anyway. I have a lecture in an hour or so-’ Yuuri was interrupted.

‘Oh, you’re a _student_! How _exciting_! Frat parties all weekend, right? Hey, Chris!’ The head stepped back from the boxes to shout into the apartment behind them. As they turned, Yuuri stared at the long, flowing combination of ponytail and braids that had been concealed behind the packing. It was silver, reached down to their waist, and also reflected the fluorescent light, almost as if this person was not affected by the false human light.

Another form stepped out into the hallway, and Yuuri was almost equally taken aback. Chris, as shouted by his companion, was slightly taller and stockier, with sharper, more masculine features. He had a tight fitting shirt that was covered in dust, an accurate match to his hair, which was a combination of long bottle-blonde on top and mousy brown roots and sides. His hazel eyes looked Yuuri up and down, before holding out a hand to shake.

Yuuri met him over the boxes, and instead of shaking his hand, Chris grazed his knuckles with his lips, maintaining eye contact. Yuuri blushed again, and looked down at his bare feet.  
‘I’m Chris. I’m sorry that we woke you,’ he laughed as Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, before running his hand through his hair. The silver-haired person laughed at this, before nudging who Yuuri assumed was their boyfriend.

‘Now Chris, don’t go scaring off the neighbour like you scared off the cab driver!! We won’t have _any_ new friends. I’m Victor by the way, Victor Nikiforov,’ Victor held his hand out to Yuuri, who took it, and was not surprised to find it was incredibly warm to touch. Victor’s lips formed a V when he smiled, and he held his head on a tilt when regarding Yuuri.

‘He probably already knows who you are, babe. You don’t need to tell _everyone_ your surname,’ Chris rolled his eyes as be bent to pick up a couple of boxes at once, the one marked ‘FRAGILE’ on the bottom and upside down. Victor pulled his hair through the hand that had just shook Yuuri’s, draping it over his shoulder and picking up the boxes that sat between them. Yuuri just stood in the doorway to his own apartment, shuffling his weight between his feet.

‘Well, it was nice to meet you-’ Victor had turned so that the boxes were now facing the door to his own apartment, but he had turned his head to face Yuuri.

‘Y-Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki,’ Yuuri offered, mentally cringing that he had also given his surname.

‘Yuuri Katsuki. Hmm. I know a Yuuri back home. Well, nice to see you, Yuuri Katsuki! Hopefully we will be seeing you more?’ He handed the boxes in his hands to Chris, who grunted as he took them.

‘Y-yes. Absolutely,’ Yuuri smiled, and Victor picked up one of the last few boxes that remained.

Yuuri felt the exchange was over, so he turned on his heel and swung the door shut behind him.

He stared into the apartment, leaning against the door, wondering what had just happened. He had clearly stepped out of his sleep and into a fairy world where elves existed, because he had just met one. Yuuri had struggled to determine Victor’s gender before he quickly realised that that didn’t really matter. What mattered was the fact that his entire elvish form had been stood in front of him and had shook his hand.

He made his way back over to the coffee table, and opened the top to pull out his Mac. Victor- what was his surname? Nikiforov. He had heard that name before. He tapped the name into Google, and the search engine took a minute to load. The wifi in the apartment left a little to be desired, so Yuuri patiently tapped his fingers on his knee while he waited. When the webpage loaded up, Yuuri blinked, and comically rubbed his eyes in disbelief at what the search engine pulled up.

Victor and Chris were both international super models. Victor’s page showed a number of high-end fashion campaigns, including Gucci, Versace, Louis Vuitton, Burberry, and his latest campaign, Tom Ford. Yuuri scrolled through the webpage, and through reams and reams of photographs and shoots featuring his new neighbours, half dressed, seductively eyeing the camera. Their physical chemistry was oozing from the blue screen, and Yuuri sat back, blinking in disbelief.

Wait a minute, he hadn’t offered any help! How rude! Way to make a first impression, Katsuki.

Yuuri shot up, jumping over the back of the sofa, almost falling when his foot sank into the cushions, and pressing his body against the door to peep through the peephole. The hallway was empty, and the purple door was shut. Too late now, anyway.

He checked his watch, and saw that he had an hour and a half until his lecture started. He turned back to his laptop, which still had a large image of Victor lying in a boat, floating on a clear blue river, winking at the camera, with an unbuttoned white shirt and a sailors hat tipped precariously on his head. Yuuri saved the image, before shutting down his computer, slipping it under his arm and heading to his room to get himself ready for school.

* * *

‘Honey, I’m home!’ Yuuri called out as he opened the door to his apartment, arm out in a theatrical, 50s sitcom way, indicating the return of the husband. He was soaked through, and his hand dripped as he held it out into the air.

‘Yuuurriii,’ Phichit, his roommate, called from his room. ‘Be a dear, and do brew a pot of coffee.’ His sing-song voice echoed out, and Yuuri dumped his bag on the floor in front of the coat rack to his right before stepping into the kitchen area to the left.

The kitchen was rather small, but enough for two 23 year old college students. The granite surfaces matched the cupboard doors, and complimented the chrome handles, oven, dishwasher and refrigerator. In the centre of the kitchen was a red vinyl table, with matching red vinyl seats. On the table sat a bowl of fake fruit, ironic for a couple of college students. Yuuri clicked the button on the chrome coffee pot on the side, before leaning over the sink and ringing out his hair.

Yuuri unbuttoned his jacket, peeled it off his body and draped it over the seat before pulling it out and slumping down into it. The late afternoon sunlight had quickly been displaced by dark grey clouds, that threatened rain throughout Yuuri’s lecture, which had ironically been on the weather in Gothic literature. This threat was eventually revealed to be a promise, as halfway home, Yuuri was met with a wall of sheet rain strong enough to nearly knock him off his bike. In the interest of safety, he had walked the rest of the way home, locking his bike up downstairs before almost slipping on his way up the 7 flights of stairs to his apartment.

Yuuri’s jacket dripped on the tiled floor, and he struggled with his soaking wet laces, before pushing his shoes off at the heel, leaving them to dry under the table. Phichit stepped out of his room, and his jaw dropped when he saw Yuuri.

Phichit was slightly shorter than Yuuri, and he was slimmer, too. His shaggy brown hair hung over his ears slightly, and matched his smiling grey eyes in making him look slightly puppy-esque. His face, and indeed his entire presence, exuded friendship and familiarity. That was how Yuuri and he had ended up being friends in the first place. Phichit was also fond of wearing his school slogan clothing in the confines of the apartment, and was currently wearing his Burgundy Columbia hoody with a pair of conspicuous grey sweatpants.

‘New York rain sucks, but it’s nothing on-’ Yuuri interrupted.

‘Thailand, yes, I know, but seeing as you didn’t actually grow up there-’ This time Phichit interrupted.

‘Hey, I spent enough monsoon seasons visiting relatives. I’ve earned my right to moan, so,’ he shrugged, joining Yuuri at the table while their water came to boiling. ‘How was your day anyway?’ He hadn’t been sat down for longer than 10 seconds before he was up, overtaking coffee duty, and dropping a pack of Oreos in front of Yuuri, who gratefully tore it open.

‘Uneventful. The paper killed me yesterday, so after this morning’s Econ lecture - please remind why I let you talk me into it? - I came back here instead of hitting the offices. JJ gave me tonight off too, seeing as I was the only journalist that actually turned up last night. Thanks,’ Yuuri turned to take the cup from Phichit, immediately taking a sip, the strong fumes steaming up his glasses slightly. Phichit retook his seat opposite, and snatched an Oreo from under Yuuri’s nose.

‘You were talked into it because you have the biggest crush on Professor Lambiel, who takes the class. And besides, I needed someone to copy off. But JJ gave you today off? It’s a Friday though?’ Phichit carefully pulled the top of his biscuit off, gently peeling off the cream filling and placing it on his tongue. Yuuri nodded, taking another sip of tea.

‘Yeah, okay, whatever, even you, Mr. I’m-as-straight-as-… something straight, whatever, you agree that he is a strong ten out of ten,’ Yuuri shook his head, and Phichit threw the bottom half of his biscuit at him.

‘Weak, Mr. Writer. Weak. So, you came home and napped?’ He rescued his biscuit before Yuuri could steal it.

‘I came home and napped. We have new neighbours, they moved in earlier. A gay couple, Victor and Chris,’ Yuuri shrugged, and glanced over his cup to see if this garnered a reaction. Phichit smiled.

‘Oooh, a gay couple. Did they have a dog?’ Yuuri laughed, and shook his head.

‘No dog, but they seem pretty… interesting. They’re models,’ he had reached around to pull his phone out of his jacket pocket, and Phichit dropped the biscuit he was separating.

‘Wait. Wait, you mean, you mean _the_ Victor and Chris? Victor Nikiforov and Chris Giacometti?’ Phichit stood up, and Yuuri just looked at him.

‘How did you-’ Phichit grabbed Yuuri’s arm, making him spill coffee on himself and the table. Yuuri yelled, even though he wasn't close to getting dry.

‘You met the two biggest names in the modelling world and you chose to whine about _Econ lectures_?! What the _hell_ , Yuuri?!’ Phichit was in his face, and Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh. Phichit pushed him, spilling coffee again.

‘Yuuri, do you know what this means?! We can get _girls_ round here!’ Phichit jumped back into his seat, pulling his phone out of his pocket, tapping away in a group chat, before Yuuri snatched it.

‘Number 1, we don’t know any girls, number 2, I don’t even like girls, and number 3, remember the tiny little waiver we sighted in order to live here? I actually like not sleeping on Mari’s couch,’ Yuuri talked as he deleted the message, and Phichit glared. Phichit’s dad owned the apartment block, and had allowed Phichit to live here rent-free while he studied at Columbia. In his second year, he had met Yuuri, who had come to Columbia as an international exchange student. They met at a poetry reading, which had sucked but they both got pretty drunk and enjoyed the night. Phichit found out that Yuuri was crashing on his sister’s couch in a studio apartment on Broadway, so he secretly moved Yuuri and all his possessions into his apartment that night.

When Phichit’s dad had found out, he came storming in, threatening eviction, but Yuuri had cooked a home-favourite, Pork Cutlet Bowls, and offered them to the bewildered Mr. Chulanont. He accepted, and after being taken back to a fondly-remembered week in Japan when he was a teenager, he fell in love with his son’s new roommate. There were conditions, of course. Yuuri did not live rent free, but his rent was paid in promises that Phichit was fed well, the apartment was cleaned, and Phichit graduated college with honours. While the final term was a pipe dream for all parties involved, Yuuri made sure that he put as much energy as he could into maintaining Phichit’s grades without letting his own slack. The boys had also signed a waiver that they were not to discuss the lives of those that lived in the hallowed halls that were Providence Place.

‘Privacy, privacy, I know. But this is cool! Doesn’t mean our visitors can’t accidentally discover that our neighbours are international models! Can you believe it?’ Phichit snapped a picture of his Oreo , before stuffing the whole thing in his mouth. He got up, and without looking up from his phone, wandered to the couch, where he jumped over and into a sitting position. Yuuri just sipped the rest of his tea, watching the steam again clouding his vision.

‘No, I can’t.’

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first chapter of the Sitcom AU that I had sitting around in my head for a while. I posted the first half of this chapter on my [YOI sideblog](https://c000kiesandcream.tumblr.com), so check it out there as well! Hope you like it :)
> 
> Edit: Changed the spelling of Yuuri's name for clarity in later fics.


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